Recap - updated with lyrics - updated with Mike's antics

Just got back from watching the USC game over at dj's, and things are winding down here at The Blue Book office.

Barrett and JoAnn dropped by the other night - they both love old houses and have a heart-felt appreciation for them that been's sorely missed. It's a shame theirs burned down last week, really.

Cap'n Mike called and told me the engine's still available for Ben, and he's hoping to start swapping in a couple of weeks. Hopefully. (But that means for the two weeks till then, I'll be slammed trying to get my stuff finished ... cause it's lots easier to work when a boat's on dry ground than it is in the water).

Mike got me real good this [Saturday] afternoon. He convinced me The Kid's alternator bracket could be unbolted, moved backwards one hole, re-bolted in place, and then be perfectly aligned with the flyshaft. I bought the idea, and spent the next 90 minutes upside down in the engine compartment tryng to thread bolts into non-existent holes.

Good one, Mike.

I tried calling Mike for 93 minutes after I got home to express how glad I was to sponsor his entertaiment for the evening but he never answered the phone. It's funny how so many people have cell phones, but no one ever answers. Maybe he passed out from laughing so hard.

One day soon I'd like to pass out from laughing real hard, too.

Whew, it feels like Friday. AF's at the beach till next year, FF's in relax mode, Orp's engaged-yeah!, K is MIA and TPW's on her way to Key West/Lisbon/Barcelona* ... seems like I'm missing somebody.

Let's tack on a preview to tomorrow's Frashley Franashtic Playlist:

Hey Jack Kerouac - 10,000 Maniacs Unplugged
Just Got Paid - ZZ Top

I can't hear anything, you know that. Not even these verses:
When the hound dog barks in the middle of the night
Stick my hand in my pocket
And everything's allright.

It's the root of all evil
And you know the rest
But it's way ahead
Of what's second best.




















* Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love,
I'm sailin' away in the morning.
Is there something I can send you from across the sea,
From the place that I'll be landing?

No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love,
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'.
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled,
From across that lonesome ocean.

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden,
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona.

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'.

That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin',
Is there something I can send you to remember me by,
To make your time more easy passin'.

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again,
It only brings me sorrow.
The same thing I want from you today,
I would want again tomorrow.

I got a letter on a lonesome day,
It was from her ship a-sailin',
Saying I don't know when I'll be comin' back again,
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'.

Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way,
I'm sure your mind is roamin'.
I'm sure your heart is not with me,
But with the country to where you're goin'.

So take heed, take heed of the western wind,
Take heed of the stormy weather.
And yes, there's something you can send back to me,
Spanish boots of Spanish leather.
-Perceptive Perspective